


Thunderstorms in My Head

by Drabbleshy



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU where Alya holds the Miraculous of Lady Wifi, Audio Content, Blankets, Chai - Freeform, Coffee, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fear, Fluff, Gift Fic, I deem this ship to be named, Miraculous Holder Alya Césaire, Protective Chat Noir, Protectiveness, Song Lyrics, Thunder and Lightning, Thunderstorms, fear of thunder, i love them.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-06 03:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16380701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drabbleshy/pseuds/Drabbleshy
Summary: It didn’t matter though. Because what she really hated about the clouds was-- boom-- thunder. . .





	Thunderstorms in My Head

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to this, please, as you read this short one-shot: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qo4JIT8jMtI  
> And then listen to this too, with it; you'll know when: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kgl-VRdXr7I
> 
> I would like to thank my friend, Leigh, for beta reading this for me. You can find her on Tumblr, at my-name-is-tom-dupain or maridefensesquad.
> 
> Oh, and this is my gift to a somewhat new, yet a very good friend. Happy belated birthday, Weefee. Love you.

The gentle pitter-pattering of the rain began to grow all around her now and she began to wonder where her partner was. He said that he would meet her on the top of Eiffel Tower at half past ten but now it was already a quarter to eleven and if he didn’t hurry his fancy butt up it would be midnight before you could say ‘Disconnected.’

 

It made her sad to see, or, rather,  _ not see  _ how the stormy, grey clouds hid the beautiful Moon tonight, the heavy sacks of water not giving way to the light which usually lit Paris in the absence of the Sun. She felt somehow connected to it, as if she understood the Moon and its mysterious ways.

 

Maybe it was all the horror movies, or how she drank coffee to stay awake, akuma attack after akuma attack after school, or maybe it was that she was misunderstood by some, if not most, of the people she attempted to aid and save from danger.

 

It didn’t matter though. Because what she really hated about the clouds was--  **_boom._ **

 

“Th-thunder!”

 

“Calm down, my Lady! Help is on the way!”

 

He seemingly appeared out of nowhere, clutching his staff in one hand and a basket in the other, the familiar, slick grin painted on his lips.

  
“Chat!” she exclaimed happily, but then sat down once more and crossed her hands. “What took you so long?”

 

“My apologies, Wifi, but I saw the rain and headed back for. . . some things.”

 

“What  _ things? _ ” she replied but he only scratched at the back of his head shyly, simply dropping the basket onto the floor of this sacred, hidden spot of the Tower, where they were safe from the rain and it’s moistness, and sitting down next to her. “You’re acting suspiciously. Did you get akumatized on your way here?”

 

He laughs at that, and the way his wet hair moves delicately, even in the wind, makes grow more suspicious. Not of him, per say, but of how perfect somebody could get. Of how beautiful he was. Of how many different shades of scarlet she must be blushing right now.

 

“H-Hey! I’m serious!”

 

“Re _ lax,  _ Wee! You know that no akuma could ever get to the great Chat Noir!” he said with a bright smile and flexed for a moment before his smile dropped a bit, as yet more thunder appeared, scaring his Lady back to her miserable mood.

 

“Hey,” he said. “It’s okay,” he comforted, hand rubbing against her back but she stayed there, hugging her knees, eyes closed. His frown deepened then and, with a deep sigh, he pulled something out of his basket and put it over her ears.

 

_ “Strumming my pain with his fingers _

_ Singing my life with his words” _

 

She opened her tear-filled eyes, letting her moist cheeks become even wetter as the trail of said tears became apparent in the week light. She gently reached up to touch the wireless headphones over her ears and a small, yet shy smile cracked through that tough mask of grief, pain and uninterest. Roberta Flack’s voice echoed through the air and the rain as Chat picked up a second pair of headphones and put them on as well.

 

Next, he pulled out two drinks to go from a coffee shop they both seemed to frequent and followed up with a soft grey blanket. They looked at one another and she flicked her eyes over to the cup in his hand. She gently accepted it with a silent nod, music the only language between them now, and thus smiled again as she read “Coffee -- black, 2x sugar.”

 

He  _ knew  _ how she drank her coffee.

 

She teared up and locked eyes with him once more, a small smile so soft on her lips and tears so big in her eyes that they pierced Chat Noir’s heart with worrisome thoughts and light feelings and blushing cheeks. How could  _ anybody  _ be as  _ amazing  _ as she was or ever will be?

 

_ ‘Thank you,’  _ she mouthed at the sight of his confused and worried face and turned, leaning and resting her head on his shoulder now and he lent back slowly, concerned that any sudden movements would scare her away, like some. . . well, he couldn’t think of any proper comparison for it right now, but Chat was sure that he would be able to think again when he was away from her. A problem, that one.

 

He picked up his white mocha coffee, with too much sugar for any reasonable and healthy human being and carefully sipped at the cooling beverage. The blanket was around them, in a moment’s notice, and they cuddled up close, the music taking them away from the sound of the rainy Paris, but not from the beautiful sight of it.

  
Gazing at all of it, they both felt something strong in their heart. In a good way. A very,  _ very _ good way.

 


End file.
